


Step By Step (Mend My Wounds)

by paintpot



Series: Kintsugi-Verse [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gabriel blames himself, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, It's not healthy, Self-Harm, Self-Worth Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:34:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27486628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintpot/pseuds/paintpot
Summary: Gabriel isn't coping with his trauma well. Aziraphale offers him a helping hand and a place to stay.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Gabriel (Good Omens)
Series: Kintsugi-Verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2008630
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

Crowley was asleep again. Aziraphale idly twirled his pen as he considered what to write in the note he was going to leave on Crowley's nightstand. Perhaps an invitation to lunch? Mmm, maybe not. That felt a little too... platonic, especially since Aziraphale was trying to work up the courage to confess his affections. Affections that were of a more romantic bent than any he had felt before. Aziraphale sighed, and looked down, realizing that he had once again covered the paper in little hearts. Perhaps he could just leave a stack of these. He certainly had enough. 

The bookshop was disappointingly full - which according to Aziraphale meant there were one or more customers attempting to abscond with his books. The two browsing the shelves were a young lady in green, and an older individual that Aziraphale wasn't quite sure how to consider. Neither of them were a very good distraction from his romantic predicament. 

The shop door opened, and Aziraphale turned, ready to tell whoever it was that the books were not for sale, when his words died in his throat. Gabriel lingered in the doorway, the fading sunlight giving him a subtle glow. 

"Oh-" Aziraphale put his pen down and circled around the desk, motioning for Gabriel to come inside. The archangel did so, and Aziraphale grasped Gabriel's forearms when he came into reach. "Is everything all right?" Gabriel glanced at the patrons, and Aziraphale quickly shooed them out - "We're closing early. Thank you for coming, yes, thank you, thank you, it's not for sale, thank you, goodbye-" - before shutting and locking the door behind them. "I wasn't expecting to see you so soon." Aziraphale said conversationally, fiddling with the shop signs. "Not that I'm turning you away, but..." 

“I know you said to call ahead, I’m sorry, I just...” Gabriel paused, and Aziraphale turned back to face him. “I...” Gabriel flushed, and Aziraphale hurried forward as Gabriel’s eyes filled with tears. “I just...”

“Take a deep breath.” Aziraphale soothed. “Would you like to sit down?” Gabriel’s face screwed up, like he was thinking very hard about his answer, before he sucked a sharp breath in through his nose and nodded once.

“I just... it’s too quiet. And I- I can't- I- I don’t want anyone else to see me like this. I didn’t know where else to go. I just... can't be alone right now.” 

“Well...” Aziraphale thought for a moment, wondering just how he would explain things if Crowley woke up early. “I don’t really have anything for you to occupy yourself with.”

“I have work. I can be quiet." Aziraphale took a moment to really examine the angel before him. Gabriel seemed fragile, like he was held together by gossamer threads and willpower. Fragile, like a gust of wind would scatter him into a thousand pieces, and so very desperate. The dark circles under the archangel's eyes told Aziraphale that what Gabriel really needed was to rest, but instead, Aziraphale turned to the back room.

“This way.” 

* * *

Gabriel settled into the chair Aziraphale directed him to. He’d never been back here. He had always kept to the front part of the shop and Aziraphale’s office. A knot twisted up his stomach as he tried to focus. He couldn’t quite manage to stuff down the feeling that he was intruding. Aziraphale was puttering around, rearranging things here and there - Gabriel was sure he was only making the other angel nervous. 

This discomfort was far better than the panic from before, though. He had terrified himself, trying to mop up the evidence, hoping no one would find him like that. He had gone too far, trying to shut out the noise in his head, the sludge choking his veins. At first it was just the once. Just a little twinge to get himself back on track. Just a little bit of pain, to prove he could control _something_ , when everything was out of his hands and falling to rot and ruin around him. A tiny light in the darkness, a lantern fueled on blood and tears.

Things had just spiraled from there - from once or twice a year, back when it first started, to almost every month, to weekly, to once a day, to a couple times a day. The itch had gotten so much worse since he had made his confession. 

He was usually so careful, checking the calendar almost obsessively, shutting himself in his office to avoid anything... upsetting, but he hadn't been paying attention - a delegation from Hell had come through and the unexpected smell of sulfur sent him running. The bathroom had been so red...

"Gabriel?" He looked up - Aziraphale was standing before him, eyes narrowed. "Are you all right?" It took him a moment to find his voice.

"Yes-" He stammered. "Yes, I- I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"You haven't moved for five minutes." 

"Oh." Gabriel blinked. “I was just... I’m fine. Thank you.” Aziraphale gave an uncommitted hum but moved off. Gabriel took a deep breath and tried to concentrate, but the words on the page were blurring together. He blinked, but things didn’t improve. He was feeling somewhat light-headed. It wasn't until he went to rub his eye that he realized he was crying again. This revelation only served to drive his shame deeper, and his face grew hot as he tried to stop crying before Aziraphale noticed. 

“Gabriel?” He jumped, inhaling sharply. 

“I’m fine- I’m- I’m fine, I’m fine.” Aziraphale’s face didn’t change. Gabriel’s eyes hurt. He tried to keep his head up, but soon crumbled under the weight of Aziraphale’s concern. “I’m...” Gabriel pressed a hand over his eyes.

Aziraphale moved, and then Gabriel’s head was resting against Aziraphale’s middle, a hand gently stroking his hair.

“Is there anything you want to talk about?” Aziraphale’s voice was gentle. Gabriel shook his head half-heartedly. He couldn’t tell, couldn’t confess his shame. He was already so damaged, so pathetic and needy. If Aziraphale found out about this, surely the other angel would turn him away.

The hand on his head moved - down; terror squeezed his chest, he couldn’t breathe, but before he could pull away- “Ahh!” The pain was sudden, cutting through him like a lightning bolt, sharp and burning, like someone had dragged a shard of glass across his back. He shoved away, eyes squeezing shut, but traitorous tears still managed to slide down his cheeks. 

Aziraphale had quickly pulled his hands away as soon as Gabriel had cried out, more than a little confused - "Are you all right? Did I hurt you?" Gabriel was shaking, and Aziraphale's eyes darted around the room, looking for - "Oh, here." He pulled his handkerchief from his vest and offered it to Gabriel. Gabriel took the cloth with trembling hands and pressed it to his eyes. 

"I'm sorry." He sobbed. "I'm sorry." 

"I hurt you. Don't apologize..." Aziraphale worried at his lower lip for a moment. "Are you injured?" The shame that washed over Gabriel's face hit Aziraphale like a lead weight. 

"I don't want to be a bother." Gabriel wept into his cloth. "I can deal with it. I just... I just don't want you to be angry." 

"Why would I be angry?" Aziraphale kept his voice very calm, even though his concern was eating a hole in his chest. Gabriel could only sob in response. Aziraphale circled around the chair to find a blanket but when he looked back-

"Gabriel, you're bleeding-" The crimson stain on the back of Gabriel's jacket told Aziraphale the situation was more serious than he had thought. Gabriel jerked up, trying to look at his back, but Aziraphale had come back around to Gabriel's front and carefully cupped Gabriel's cheek. 

"I-" He sobbed. "I'm sorry-" 

"Shh..." Aziraphale hushed him. "I'm not angry. I just want to know what happened." Aziraphale tried to keep his voice level. "Can you tell me?" Gabriel shook his head, almost collapsing against Aziraphale's chest. "All right. Might I at least take a look to see if I can heal anything?" Gabriel blew his nose into the handkerchief, but didn't say anything. "I'm here to help you." Aziraphale soothed. "I just want to help you, I promise." Gabriel didn't speak, but after a moment, there was a bright flash of light, and when Aziraphale could see again, his breath caught in his chest. "Oh, Gabriel." He breathed. Gabriel's wings were a wreck - an awful splay of red, red, red, from bright crimson to dark sanguine, feathers sticking out at odd angles, threatening to fall with the slightest breeze, patches that had been picked completely bare now in the process of scabbing over. "Did someone do this to you?" Gabriel shook his head.

“I... I...” Gabriel’s voice was a wet shadow. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just... I don’t know how to stop.” 

Aziraphale took a deep breath. "All right." Now wasn't the time to dig into Gabriel's reasons. "All right. Gabriel, will you give me permission to clean your wings?” Gabriel looked up at him, eyes wide. 

“You’re... asking?” Nobody ever asked him for permission. They just touched him, and he held his tongue, even when it felt like sandpaper on his skin, even when he wanted to scream himself hoarse. _Don't make a fuss. Keep your head down. Do what you're told._

“I won’t do anything you haven’t consented to.” Gabriel’s eyes filled with fresh tears as he nodded tightly. “All right.” Aziraphale quickly cleared a space on the floor, and set a pillow down - “Sit or lay down, however you’re most comfortable.” - before exiting the room. 

Gabriel sat down on the pillow, wrapped his arms around his knees, and waited quietly for Aziraphale to come back. Nothing had gone like he had thought it would. Aziraphale didn't seem to be angry, hadn't yelled or shamed him or thrown him out. Gabriel had only come to Aziraphale in search of company. He just wanted someone to sit with, someone who knew how he was hurting, someone who wouldn't ask questions if he started crying again - that, and he couldn't pull feathers if someone else was watching. He had never expected to be met with such undeserved kindness. Gabriel rubbed his eyes again. His chest hurt. 

"Gabriel?" Aziraphale had returned. Gabriel laid his head on his knees. Aziraphale knelt beside him, and almost put a hand on his shoulder before reconsidering. "I have water, and a sponge. If you let me, I'll clean the blood off. Is that okay?" Gabriel nodded. "Are you comfortable with letting me adjust your feathers? You can say no. You can always say no." Gabriel nodded again. Aziraphale moved behind him, and there was a brief sound of water being disturbed before Gabriel felt the gentle touch of a sponge on his left wing. The warm water stung his broken skin, but Gabriel could tell Aziraphale was doing his best to be gentle. All was silence. All was still. He could hear Aziraphale moving behind him, could feel Aziraphale's gentle fingers carefully stroke his remaining feathers back into place. 

He had been so proud of his wings once. Mother had given him such a beautiful pair, sleek lines and strength enough to lift him, all in soft gold and purples. He had ruined them, just like he ruined everything else. He ruined everything he touched. All the work everyone had done for thousands of years, ruined because he hadn't kept a close enough eye on things. He must have done something wrong when he was carrying. Did he pay too much attention to the baby? Not enough? He hadn't even checked in with the child afterwards. He had been selfish, so selfish. Letting himself drown in his pain, shutting everything out, burying himself in his work until it was too late to fix things. Dumping all his responsibilities onto everyone else. And now he was crying again. He was pathetic. So pathetic. 

"Gabriel." He looked up to see Aziraphale kneeling before him. "I'm finished. That's as much as I can help with." Gabriel wanted to say thank you, but he couldn't get his voice to work. All he could do was grip Aziraphale's hand and squeeze tight, pressing it to his forehead. 

"I think..." Aziraphale said quietly, before pausing for a moment. Gabriel's mind filled with all sorts of terrible conclusions that sentence could end with. _I think you should go. I think you shouldn't come back. I think you're weak. I think I don't want to help you anymore._ "I think you should stay here for a while." Gabriel didn't have an answer to that. Aziraphale faltered at the lack of response, but pressed forward. "I have room. If... if you want to stay, of course. I can help you with your wings if you need it. And... it's usually fairly quiet in here. It's a good place to work." Gabriel suddenly reached forward and wrapped himself around Aziraphale's middle. Aziraphale's hand came to rest on his hair. "You don't have to stay. But there's room for you here if you want it." Gabriel nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. "All right." 


	2. Chapter 2

Aziraphale had quickly fixed up an upstairs room (mostly by removing the decades of accumulated dust and the stacks of books, but he did also change the sheets to fresh ones) and Gabriel had been settled in with very little fuss. "The door and the windows lock. I'll be down the hall or in the shop if you need me." Gabriel was sitting on the bed, somehow terribly small despite his size. "Gabriel?" The archangel looked up. "Did you hear me?" Gabriel nodded tightly. "All right..." Aziraphale exited, taking one last look at the angel on the bed before shutting the door.

Gabriel sat there for a long time, or maybe only a moment, before he got up and locked the door. There was something comforting about doing it with his own hands. The lock was solid and tangible, soothing his anxious thoughts. The windows were next, and after that he sat back down on the bed. The mattress was soft. He picked up a pillow from the bed and held it close to his chest. It was soft too. The itch was gone. For now. He didn't know what to do with himself. He didn't want to work. He didn't want to sleep. For so long he had thrown himself head-first into his work, even before... but now he couldn't focus.

He reached down and slipped his shoes off, setting them together next to the bed. His socks were white, just the same as always. Everything about him was the same, but... everything was different now. Who was he? What was he supposed to do now? No one was here to tell him what to do. No one was here to give him guidance. Surely Aziraphale wouldn't want to hold his hand and walk him through things. The other angel was already going out of his way to accommodate him. No one else knew what he needed, what he had been through. If he tried to explain, it would just lead to an avalanche of questions he couldn't handle. The others would be angry he'd hidden this. They'd be disappointed he couldn't take care of himself, that he was so weak. His routine was in tatters, his reputation likely shredded-

He had to think. He had to distract himself, or he'd sink right back down into that awful sludge of despair. What did he want to do? He could jog... but he couldn't go out. Not when he would be surrounded by strangers, looking at him, getting close, _touching_ him. No, no, no... something else, something else. He liked looking at fabric, but that presented the same issue.

He couldn’t think of a single other activity he liked outside of work. All these thousands of years, and what did he have to show for it? The others had hobbies, things they did to relax, and tangible results to show for it, but Gabriel... didn't. He clenched and relaxed his hands, over and over. Who was he? Who was he? Gabriel drew his knees up to his chest once more, wrapped his arms around them, and slowly rocked back and forth. This was soothing, this was okay, he was okay. No one was watching him. He could engage in this shame without anyone else judging him. The others had mentioned that it was childish of him to do this, to want this, but nothing else comforted like this did. Now he had nothing but tears, and they came hot and salty down his cheeks. 

* * *

There hadn't been any sound from the spare room since Gabriel had locked himself in. That had been two days ago, and Aziraphale had grown rather concerned. He raised his hand, and paused, poised to knock. Should he? He didn't want to disturb Gabriel if he didn't have to. "Guidance, Lord." He prayed silently. "Please, give me guidance." The silence echoed around him. He'd have to choose. Aziraphale took a deep breath, and knocked.

* * *

Gabriel was still curled up on the bed, clutching a pillow to his chest - and then there was a knock. He scrambled towards the wall in a blind panic, holding his pillow close, his heart a frantic drum. "Gabriel?" He strained to identify the voice through his terror. That was... that was Aziraphale. That was Aziraphale. Aziraphale was safe. He took a breath, and then another. Aziraphale was safe. 

"Come- come in." The words stuck in his throat. There was a pause, a soft click, and then the door swung open. Aziraphale looked just the same as ever. Gabriel laid his forehead on the pillow, and tried to slow his breathing. Aziraphale came to stand beside the bed. 

"I wanted to come in and check on you." Aziraphale's voice was no longer the nervous, high-pitched sound from years before. Now it was calm, and deep, and soothing. "It's been two days, and... I was worried."

"I'm sorry." Gabriel said into the pillow. "Do you want me to come out?" He didn't want to come out, he wanted to stay here, maybe forever-

"I don't-" Aziraphale paused here. "I want you to be comfortable. If you're not ready to come out, I understand."

"Would you be angry if I don't come out?" Aziraphale frowned. This was not what he had been expecting. 

"It's not about me, Gabriel. Stop worrying about what I think. I want to know what you want." 

"I..." Gabriel swallowed heavily. "I don't... I don't know what I want. I don't know. I don't know, I don't _know_ , I don't-" Gabriel pressed a hand to his eyes, but the tears were coming again. He forced himself to pull his face away from the pillow and looked up at Aziraphale. "Can't you just tell me what I should want?"

"Ahh..." Aziraphale stalled. "I don't... what do you mean?" 

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do." Gabriel admitted into his pillow. "I've never been on my own before. I've never had to make decisions for myself. I've always had someone to guide me." Gabriel rolled onto his side and tugged his pillow closer. "I don't have any rules for this. There's no plan. I'm all by myself and I don't know where I'm going. It feels like I'm stuck in the dark and I can't find my way out. I don't know what to do. I need..." He breathed wetly. "I need..." He had to stop talking; the tears were drowning out his voice.

"You're all right." Aziraphale soothed. "You're all right." He looked around the room and pulled a nearby chair over. "Here." He sat down, and then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. Gabriel took the offered cloth in a shaking hand and tried to wipe the tears from his cheeks. 

"Help me, please. Tell me what to do." 

"Um..." Aziraphale took a moment to think. "What if..." He paused again. "Well... you like jogging, don't you?" Gabriel's eyes widened in terror and Aziraphale winced internally.

"No, no, no, I can't go out there, I can't, I can't, please don't make me go-"

"You don't have to go, it's all right." Aziraphale quickly reassured him. "Let's see, what else is there? You like clothes, don't you?" His face brightened, and then fell just as quickly. "I suppose that would also involve going out. Hmm... would you like to eat something?"

"No thank you." Gabriel hadn't even mentioned gross matter, and Aziraphale almost wished he would if it meant he was feeling better. 

"Would you like a glass of water?"

"No thank you." 

"You could take a nap?"

"I don't want to sleep." 

"Well, here, what else do you like?" 

"I don't know!" Gabriel wailed, dissolving back into tears. Aziraphale's jaw tightened, and he drew in another deep breath, his gut twisting in concern.

"What if... what if I just sit in here with you? Would that be all right?" Gabriel nodded. 

"Don't leave me. Please don't leave me." 


	3. Chapter 3

He was back in the conference room. It always started slow like this, just him alone. He was still wearing clothes this time, but he knew they would be no protection. There were the footsteps, echoing down the hallway beyond. _One, two, three..._ solid, and unfaltering, echoing like church bells announcing his death. His chest was tight, and the terror that lived in his belly swelled up his spine to grip his heart. _Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen..._ he couldn't move. He could never move. All he could do was wait for it to be over. _Twenty-two, twenty-three..._ The door swung open, and the room shrunk in around him.

 _He_ stepped in, tall and blonde and beautiful, smiling that awful, awful smile. "Gabriel." _His_ voice was smoke, smooth and oily. "Have you considered my offer?" Gabriel felt his mouth move, felt the air leave his lungs, but he couldn't make a sound. _His_ face fell, _his_ eyes darkened with rage. "A pity." And then there was a hand around Gabriel's throat, and he was on his back on the table, and _his_ other hand was methodically stripping Gabriel's defenses away. Gabriel's mouth opened in a silent cry, but he couldn't make a sound. He couldn't move, couldn't even claw at the hand around his throat. All he could do was watch as _his_ hand moved down between Gabriel's legs, sculpted his untouched flesh to _his_ liking. All he could do was watch, and cry. And the tears came, hot and bitter salt, he was drowning, he couldn't speak, he couldn't say 'no'. He wanted to scream, needed to scream, but couldn't make a sound- _And it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, he was tearing in two, choking on sulfer-_

"My little lamb, just need to be taken in hand, don't you-" _His_ voice was slick, a sinister croon, thick and cloying, Gabriel wanted to scream. _Please, please, stop, don't say that, please, please, just stop-_ "You look so good like this, split open on my cock. I wish I could just keep you right here, my own pretty plaything-" _No, no, no, no, no no no no no-_ "You're mine, darling." _No, no, please, no-_ "No matter what you do from here, I'll always be the first one to have touched you-" The pain was consuming him, a paralyzing agony radiating out from where he was being violated-

And then he was howling, sobbing, his voice a tortured wail echoing off the pale blue walls. Raphael was there, bending over him and Gabriel looked down, past the enormous dome of his stomach, to see _him_ standing at the foot of the bed, still smiling that awful smile. Raphael was saying something, but the other angel's voice wasn't coming through clear - it was like the words were traveling through tar, reaching his ears distorted into meaningless sounds. Gabriel tried to beg, he screamed and plead for Raphael not to take his baby, not to give his sweet, innocent baby to _him_ , but Raphael didn't hear, couldn't hear, and Raphael was reaching towards him with the needle, and he couldn't move, and he was screaming, screaming, but Raphael wasn't listening, and the needle was going into his arm, and everything was going black-

* * *

The world suddenly began shaking around him, and Aziraphale looked up from his book to see Gabriel roll over, the angel's face twisted in terror. "Gabriel?" Gabriel whimpered, unresponsive, his cheeks shining in the light of the setting sun. "Gabriel, you're- Ah!" Aziraphale toppled out of his chair and hit the floor with a crash, pain spiking through his leg. Cursing, he gripped the bedframe and reached up to touch Gabriel's shoulder- "Gabriel, you need to wake-"

* * *

Someone touched him and he lashed out, a scream tearing from his throat as he shoved them away, he had to get away, he had to run, he- he had to run- and he was screaming, no, no, no, no, no-

* * *

\- and Aziraphale gave a sudden, choked cry as another spike of agony ripped through him and clawed down his spine. His back had hit the wall. Gabriel had- Gabriel had thrown him clear across the room. "Ah- ahh-" Aziraphale drew in a painful breath, braced himself, and waited for the shaking to stop, his head spinning. Something shattered in the hall, and he winced. Eventually, the room stilled, and he risked opening his eyes. The mattress was no longer on the bed frame, the torn remains of the sheets covering the floor. The chair he had been sitting in was on its side. Loose pages were strewn about, and feathers were slowly drifting through the air. One of the windows had shattered, and the curtains were flapping in the breeze. People were yelling in the street outside, and a siren was howling in the distance. Aziraphale looked at the ruins around him, pain radiating through him, and considered the possibility that he was in over his head. 


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing Aziraphale had to do was get up. This proved to be more difficult than he anticipated. His leg ached; he had landed wrong when he had fallen and his old injury was acting up. He exhaled sharply, steeled himself, and managed to roll himself over, before letting out another hiss of pain as his leg throbbed. "Come on, you.” He grumbled. “We don’t have time for this.” His thigh muscle spasmed indignantly, but Aziraphale managed to make it to his feet anyway. He took a moment to breathe, leaving heavily against the wall, before he staggered off after Gabriel.

The first floor didn’t seem to be in too bad a shape, save for a couple of broken windows and the piles of books that had fallen over. Aziraphale grimaced, but put his concerns aside for the moment. Gabriel had to be his focus - no matter how much affection he held for his books, living beings had to take priority. The stairs were in good condition, creaking a little under his weight, but that was nothing new. 

The ground floor was in a much worse state of disarray, and Aziraphale cringed at the sight. Bookshelves were toppled, the ceiling light was on the floor, a large crack had snaked across the far wall, the air smelled heavily of dust and plaster - but Gabriel was nowhere to be found. A quick miracle had the worst of the debris cleared, and Aziraphale moved on to take a quick look at the rest of the building. 

The back rooms were largely unscathed, and to his somewhat absurd relief, the wine cabinets had made it through in excellent condition. Some of his dishes had shattered against the kitchen tile, and the vase of flowers on the benchtop was currently on its side and leaking onto the floor. Aziraphale frowned deeply, and a gesture set the kitchen to rights before he moved on. 

He took a deep breath, and a risk. "Gabriel?" There was no response. Aziraphale wondered if Gabriel had fled back to Heaven, and wished he had a way to check. He wasn't powerful enough to just transport himself there - he'd have to take the pedestrian route, and - his train of thought was interrupted by the sound of quiet sobs. His stomach turned unpleasantly, but he pushed the feeling down. "Gabriel?" He called again. The sobs abruptly stopped, and Aziraphale cursed silently. Where had the sounds been coming from? “Gabriel, please come out. I just want to make sure you’re all right." The silence stretched out, like the shadow of some great beast. Aziraphale took a deep breath. "Gabriel, I promise I'm not angry. I'm worried. Please come out." Nothing. Aziraphale listened closely, straining to hear even the faintest of sounds - there. He cautiously approached the bookshelf near the corner of the room, and he paused, just before coming into view. He could hear the very quiet movements beyond, but he didn't want to frighten Gabriel while he was in such a fragile state. "You don't have to come out if you're not ready. I just wanted to make sure you were all right. I'm going to see about cleaning up the shop some, but I'm available if you want to talk or if you just want to sit with me." There was still no response. Aziraphale exhaled slowly, and moved away to assess the condition of his books. 

* * *

Gabriel curled tighter around his knees. He could hear Aziraphale moving around, and the shuffle of paper. He could feel the fuzzy twinge that snaked down his spine, the sure sign of nearby miracles, and a fresh wave of guilt swept over him. He should apologize, he thought. He should go out and fix what he had broken, however he could. Only... he would have to go outside for that. He swallowed heavily, and scrubbed at his cheeks. Outside. The prospect seemed daunting. He hadn't been outside since... since the incident with... Adam's face flashed through his mind, and a broken sound tore from his throat. He ruined everything he touched. 

_Mama-_ He wept silently. _Mama, what am I supposed to do? How do I go on? It hurts, and I'm so afraid..._

"Gabriel?" A quiet sob escaped him before he could press a hand over his mouth. Even with his best efforts, though, he couldn't quite keep himself quiet. There was silence, and then again, "Gabriel?" He took a slow, shuddering breath. “Gabriel, please come out. I just want to make sure you’re all right." Come out? He couldn't _come out_. Surely Aziraphale would be angry, furious even. Aziraphale loved his books, and Gabriel had damaged them- "Gabriel, I promise I'm not angry. I'm worried. Please come out." Aziraphale's voice was deliberately soft and measured, and Gabriel felt another rush of shame. He was such a bother- "You don't have to come out if you're not ready." _...what?_ "I just wanted to make sure you were all right. I'm going to see about cleaning up the shop some, but I'm available if you want to talk or if you just want to sit with me." An open offer... It was a trap, it had to be a trap, Aziraphale couldn't possibly still want to deal with him after this. But... Aziraphale had been so kind to him, far kinder than he deserved, and he felt awful leaving the other angel to worry. Even if it was a trap, didn't he owe it to Aziraphale to own up to this? A sick feeling welled in his chest, and he stuffed down the surge of terror. Even if it ended with Aziraphale throwing him out, he needed to face the consequences. He stood on shaking legs, his sock-clad feet cold against the ground. He had to be brave. He dried his tears one more time, with shaking hands, and inched his way out from behind the bookcase. 


	5. Chapter 5

Aziraphale was on the floor, sorting books into piles, but he turned at the sound of footsteps. Gabriel lingered by the bookcase, arms wrapped around himself. "Um.." Gabriel's voice was scratchy, and Aziraphale knew he'd been crying.

"How are you feeling?" 

"Mmm..." Gabriel looked away, but his gaze landed on the large crack in the wall and his mouth twisted in shame. 

"Would you like to come and sit with me?" Gabriel swallowed heavily, and moved forward, taking care not to step on anything. Aziraphale had cleared a space beside him, and when Gabriel got close, he patted the spot invitingly. Gabriel hesitated - _be brave, be brave_ \- but finally sank down. He squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head. 

"I'm- I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He choked out. "I'll... I’ll get my things and go.” 

“Wh- oh.” Aziraphale’s tone was disappointed, but Gabriel didn’t dare open his eyes. He’d screwed everything up again and now Aziraphale was going to tell him to- “Was it something I said?” Gabriel looked up at Aziraphale, eyes wide. 

“No, I just... I thought you’d want me to leave.” 

“Why would I want that?”

“Because- you let me into your home and all I did was make a mess of things and cause you trouble. I don’t deserve-“

“Stop right there.” Aziraphale cut in quite firmly. “I don’t want to hear anything about deserving.” 

“But- but-“ Gabriel sputtered.

“I will not hear of it, and that’s my final word on the subject.” Gabriel bit his lip, looking away, shame coloring his cheeks - _he’d done it again, he couldn’t do anything right_ \- and Aziraphale softened. “Thinking such things isn’t going to lead you to any place where you can heal.” He murmured. “All it’s going to do is send you down a spiral of ‘what-if’s. Do you remember what I said the first time you confided in me?” Gabriel thought very hard, but eventually shook his head. “I told you there was nothing you could have done to deserve what occurred. That’s still the truth.” Aziraphale reached over to curl his hand around Gabriel’s.

“But I...” Gabriel couldn’t find the words he wanted. Aziraphale seemed to sense his dilemma, and continued after a moment. 

“I think perhaps it would be best to find you a distraction. Something to keep your mind busy.” Gabriel nodded automatically, not really taking to words in. “Do you have anything in mind?” 

“Um...” Gabriel eventually shook his head. Aziraphale patted his hand. 

“Why don’t you give it some thought? I’ll be right here if you need me.” Aziraphale turned back to his books, and Gabriel sat quietly, his mind a tangled knot of fear and uncertainty. Aziraphale hadn’t thrown him out - _yet_. That didn’t mean his place here was secure, only that he had it for a little while longer. He had to prove himself, prove that he was worth keeping around. 

“Aziraphale?” The other angel looked up at him. 

“Yes?” 

“I-“ Gabriel faltered, before clearing his throat. “I want to help.” 

Aziraphale was somewhat taken aback by Gabriel’s decision. “You- with this?”

“I want to help.” Gabriel repeated firmly. Aziraphale pondered for a moment. 

"I don't want to use miracles on my books, so if you could move them to the open space in the middle of the shop that would be very helpful."

"Okay." He could do that. He could do that. He'd prove he could handle this. Gabriel gingerly picked up a nearby book, and glanced at Aziraphale. The other angel didn't say anything, so after a moment Gabriel picked up another. Still nothing. Gabriel took a deep breath, and stood up. He could feel Aziraphale's eyes on him as he moved towards the spot Aziraphale had indicated. "Here?" Aziraphale nodded, and he felt the knot in his chest loosen just a little bit. He could do this.

The task was just the right thing to lose himself in. Pick up the books and put them in the center. One, two, three, up and up the pile grew until the stack was almost too tall to be secure. Aziraphale hovered nearby, examining different tomes, but Gabriel was sure Aziraphale was keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn't screw this up too. Another stack, now, up and up and up, and then another stack, and another, until the books had made a small mountain.

Gabriel looked around, but couldn't see any other books. Was that it? Had he finished? The sick feeling welled up inside him once more. "Gabriel?" He turned towards Aziraphale, who was standing a few feet away. "I think that's everything you can help me with. If you would like to go sit down, you can." Gabriel's throat bobbed. He couldn't tell what kind of dismissal that was and it worried him. 

"Did I do this right?" The question escaped his mouth before he could stuff it back down into his chest. 

"Ah- yes, yes, everything's fine. Thank you." Aziraphale's voice held the very slightest tinge of worry. That didn't tell Gabriel anything helpful. He was very familiar with sending someone off and fixing their mess himself, and he had a sick feeling that the same pattern was playing out here. There was nothing to be done, though, so he gathered his tattered nerves around him and went to sit in the back room. 

He settled in the chair he had been directed to, when he first came to the shop all those days ago. His wings itched. He wanted to reach back and- no, no, he couldn’t do that, not here. Not when Aziraphale could walk in on him at any moment. But still, his wings itched. 


	6. Chapter 6

  
Aziraphale placed another book on the shelf, the last in the stack, and then stepped back to assess his progress. The shop was looking much clearer now than it had three hours ago. The intact shelves were all standing, the unsalvageable furniture and debris had been gathered into a pile, it was a good place to take a break. He moved into the back room- and stopped short. Gabriel was sitting in the chair, looking down at his lap, but he raised his head as Aziraphale approached. 

“Are you all right?” He asked gently. Gabriel nodded. “Found something to keep yourself entertained, I hope?” Gabriel’s eyes widened and Aziraphale wished he could stuff the question back into his mouth. 

“No. Was I supposed to?” 

“I thought- have you just been sitting here?” Gabriel nodded again, looking down.

“I didn’t want to break anything else.” Aziraphale took a deep breath. 

"Gabriel, it was an accident." He started gently. "I know you didn't mean any harm."

"I know, I just..." Gabriel twisted his hands together. "I don't know what to do with myself now." Aziraphale perched in the other available chair, and noticed Gabriel shifting his shoulders uncomfortably. 

"Are you feeling all right?" 

"Hmm?" Gabriel looked up in confusion. 

"How are your wings?" 

"...itchy." The angel admitted quietly.

"Would you like me to look at them?" Aziraphale asked gently. "You can say no." Gabriel thought about it for a long moment. He could say no. The concept seemed alien. Gabriel screwed his eyes shut, and took a deep breath before speaking again.

"What happens if I say no?" 

"Then we move on. That's all." Gabriel thought for a moment more, and made his decision.

"Can you help me?" 

* * *

Gabriel was once again sitting on the grey pillow and waiting for Aziraphale to come back. He jumped as his tablet appeared beside him, vibrating insistently. Michael was calling - a sudden rush of panic flooded through him, Michael was calling- he hit ‘Reject Call’ on instinct, and then fumbled his tablet before managing to call her back. Her face appeared on the screen, her eyes narrowed in confusion. 

“Gabriel?” 

“Uh, Michael, hi-“ He stammered, cringing at his shaking voice. “How are you?”

“Fine.” There was nothing in her voice or on her face that lent itself to interpretation. “I was calling to see where you were.” 

“I’m... on Earth.” He said lamely. 

“Mm-hm. Where on Earth, exactly?” 

“I’m in London. I’m taking care of some things.” 

“Is there anything I can help you with?” 

“No-“ He blurted out, before he cleared his throat and tried again. “I mean, no. Thank you. I’m handling it.” Michael seemed unconvinced. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” There was a wrinkle near the corner of her eye that meant she was concerned. Gabriel nodded, his chest aching. 

“I’m fine. Promise.” He wasn’t fine at all, he was the opposite of fine- He put on a brave smile. “I‘ll be back soon. Are you holding everything down okay?” 

"Yes. Everything is running smoothly.” 

"That's good. I should- I should be back soon." Back home, but home wasn't safe, how could he be safe there- Michael took a deep breath before she spoke again. 

"Take care of yourself, all right?" 

"I will." 

"All right." Michael disappeared from the screen, and Gabriel's shoulders slumped. He hoped Michael didn't go digging too much. It would be terribly difficult to explain why he was hanging around Aziraphale, considering the whole 'failed execution' thing. Heaven felt terribly far away, and Gabriel couldn't figure out how to cross the vast chasm separating him from his siblings. 

"Gabriel?" Aziraphale had returned, and set down the bowl of water he was carrying before hurrying forward at the look of despair on Gabriel’s face.

“Are you all right?” 

“Michael called.” Gabriel admitted. 

"Is everything all right?" 

"She wanted to check up on me. I..." Gabriel fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "I told her I was fine, but... I hate lying to her. I just don't know how to explain that I..." Gabriel exhaled slowly. "Do I owe it to her?" Aziraphale went silent for a while before finally responding.

"I don't know. I don't think I can answer that for you." Gabriel sunk his teeth into his bottom lip and nodded, and Aziraphale felt a pang in his chest.

"Would you like me to look at your wings now?" Gabriel bowed his head and his wings shimmered into existence. Aziraphale took up the cloth he had set aside and went to work.

"Your wings are looking better." He commented, rewetting his cloth.

"There's less irritation." 

"That's good." Gabriel said quietly. "Thank you." It was true. Gabriel's wings were showing improvement - there was a significant decrease in the redness and irritation, and the remaining feathers, while not healthy, were less damaged than Aziraphale had originally feared. 

"Did you give any thought towards something you'd like to do?”

"I want... to make something. I need to do something with my hands. I..." Gabriel's voice trailed off. Both he and Aziraphale could sense what remained unspoken. 

"That's a good place to start." 


End file.
